Doubtful if many of you have heard of this movie; in the theatres for a week, it slipped into the limitless limbo of unwatched mediocrity, praying for Netflix, On Demand to ignite a passive public’s interest in two teenage assassins, disguised as nuns, delivering pizza. Of the myriad of films I see but never review, “Violet & Daisy” resided comfortably in the top ten, until June 19th, 2013. At best benign, it precipitously plummeted into preposterous poppycock.
The only streak of genuine legitimacy was “Michael”, a washed-up thief, dying of cancer, befriending and encouraging his executioners (“Violet”, Alexis Bledel) and (“Daisy”, Saorise Ronan) to accomplish the mission, with alacrity and efficiency. James Gandolfini, looking much older than fifty-one, gives a sensitive, fatigue-laden performance of a man resolved with exiting the norm, ready to gamble, exercise his options with fate, God, and vast uncertainty.
On hearing of his shocking demise in Rome, Italy, I wondered if his refined performance resonated with clairvoyance; did he sense, while depicting the role of a man betrayed by the vicissitudes of his body, encroaching darkness, blankness, an everlasting void?
Chagrined to confess that never having seen “The Sopranos” I so admired how he nurtured, informed his every movie role with inimitable integrity (“Zero Dark Thirty”, “Killing Them Softly”, “Never Fade Away”). Unfortunate, that his close to final act, had to be spent with dismal, imbecilic , flower-children from Hades.
ONE & 1/2 STARS!